


Haunting

by Levis_turtles



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bill is a ghost, Bipper sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Voyeurism, haunting dipper, i'm no good at writing the sex, implied sex, its not as weird as the tags make it seem, necrophilia (technically)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levis_turtles/pseuds/Levis_turtles
Summary: Dipper sighed, falling back on to the sofa. He said, “Killing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me.”“The worst thing to ever happen to you?" Bill asked. "Kid, I’m dead.”





	Haunting

**Author's Note:**

> "I've got a boyfriend now and he's made of gold"

 Dipper Pines was not having a good day.

It started off like a regular bad day. He burnt his coffee, he got his jacket stuck in his front door and had no idea how to fix the rip without leaving a scar, he’d missed his bus, and for the whole day one of his colleagues was throwing things at the back of his head. And then, when he thought that the day couldn’t possibly get any worse, he came home to find a dream demon lying back on his piano, waiting for him. Bill Cipher, the very dream demon that Dipper had exorcised three weeks ago.

“Did I forget to mention?” Bill asked, quirking an eyebrow as he tossed an apple from hand to hand. “When you kill a demon, you’re stuck with it. Forever.”

If there was one thing that Dipper had wished he’d known three weeks ago, it was that.

  

 

“So, what’re you doing?” Bill asked, leaning over Dipper’s shoulder.

Dipper was writing to Mabel, the old fashioned way, because Cyber-Bugs kept eating her emails and it was getting harder and harder to communicate with her. “Don’t breathe down my neck!” Dipper snapped.

“I don’t breathe,” Bill said, leaning even closer. If he had had a corporeal form, his chin would be resting on Dipper’s shoulder.

Dipper sighed and slammed his pen down on the desk. He did it just a little too hard, and a few blobs of ink splashed the paper. Turning in his chair, Dipper levelled Bill with an exasperated look. He said, “Why are you still here?”

Bill blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ ,” Dipper said, “there are _millions_ of places for you to be right now. So why are you here with me?”

Bill frowned, like the thought that he could be somewhere else hadn’t occurred to him. But then he smiled, and Dipper realised that Bill was laughing at him in that way that he always had – like Dipper was some special brand of idiot. He said, “Believe me, kid. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. But-” he flicked Dipper’s nose, “-there are rules. And the rules say that no matter how much you may want me to leave, I have to stay here until the end of your life.”

Dipper said, “I thought you didn’t believe in rules.”

“I don’t,” Bill said, “but even I have to stick to this one.”

Dipper was at a loss for words. All this time – nearly two months – he had thought that Bill had been getting some sick enjoyment out of following Dipper around. He’d thought that Bill was hanging around because he _wanted_ to hang around.

Silently, he turned back to his paper. He didn’t complain when Bill leaned over him to read what he was writing. 

 

 

Dipper flopped back on to the sofa with a groan, not caring that Bill was already sitting there as his legs fazed right through Bill’s thighs.

“Rude,” said Bill, glancing down at his visibly impaled lap.

“There has to be something we can do,” Dipper said. It had been five months, and while Bill had become a normal aspect of Dipper’s life, he had no plans to spend the rest of his life at the demon’s side.

“There isn’t,” Bill said.

Dipper shifted on the sofa, propping his head up so he could meet the demon’s eyes. “Normal ghosts move on after getting closure,” he said.

“But I’m not a normal ghost.” Bill shifted at Dipper’s side, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, his arm resting along the back of the sofa. Like this, Dipper thought that Bill could have been real – could have been physically sitting there, right in front of him. “I’m a demon ghost, and I don’t go until you go.”

Dipper wondered what would happen if he reached out to touch Bill. Would his hand go through him, if his intention was to touch him, or would he be able to interact with the demon in the same way that Bill could sometimes interact with the inanimate objects in Dipper’s house? 

“So, sorry kid,” Bill said with a smile. “You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

Dipper sighed. He said, “Killing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

“The worst thing to ever happen to _you?_ ” Bill snorted. “I’m _dead_.”

Dipper huffed, turning away from Bill with what could only be considered a pout. “Could have fooled me.”

 

 

“You know,” Bill said, one day, skipping into the room when Dipper was trying to read a book. “You could just kill yourself.” 

Dipper put his book down and looked up at Bill, witheringly. “What?”

“Think about it,” Bill said. He crossed the living room and dropped down to sit at Dipper’s side. “I don’t want to be here, you don’t want me here. If you die, I can leave, and you’ll never have to see me again. It’s a win-win.” 

Dipper wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. He said, “Except for the part where I’ll be dead.”

Bill shrugged, “I’m dead. It’s really not all that bad. Though,” he looked at Dipper from the corner of his eye, “the company’s nothing to boast about.”

Dipper made a point of shoving his foot through Bill’s stomach – he knew Bill hated that – as he returned to reading his book.

 

 

It was a cold night when Bill walked in on Dipper looking through the window, staring up at the stars. His head was pressed to the glass, and he could feel the chill of it spreading down his face. Bill sat down at Dipper’s side, tucking his knees up under his chin.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Death,” Dipper said.

Bill snorted. “Lovely.”

They lapsed back to silence, and Dipper allowed his eyes to flutter shut as his thoughts consumed him. After a moment, he broke the silence to ask, “What’s it really like?” 

“Death?”

Dipper opened his eyes, and found that Bill was staring at him with a strange look in his eyes. He nodded.

“It’s not so bad,” Bill told him. “It’s almost the same as being alive was, except that I’m tethered to you now.”

Dipper breathed a laugh at that. “Do you hate it?”

“Being dead?” Bill asked. “Or being with you?”

Dipper shrugged. “Both?”

Bill didn’t answer that. He went quiet, and Dipper wondered what he could possibly be thinking. A demon that knew almost everything in both the observable and unobservable universe; he could be thinking of anything. 

“You know,” Bill said, eventually. “If you’re so interested in what it’s like to be dead, I’d be happy to show you.” 

Not for the first time, Dipper wished that he could touch Bill _just_ so that he could shove him out the window.

 

  

Dipper’s life was stressful. He had work in his boring office, he had work as a freelance supernatural expert, he had to deal with being outside with people while dealing with anxiety _and_ a nervous stutter, and he had to deal with Bill. So, every once in a while, he found himself falling into one of the most carnal forms of stress relief.

He had gone back to her house, because why on _God’s Sweet Earth_ would he take her to the house that _Bill_ was in? And she had all but dragged him to her room and tackled him to the bed.

Dipper had never really thought much about sex, but when he wanted it, he wanted it _bad_. He was far from experienced, but with his head between her thighs and her hands fisted in his hair, Dipper didn’t think that his level of experience really meant a damn.

“Pine Tree!” 

Dipper almost bit her when he opened his eyes and saw Bill watching them from the headboard.

Bill grinned when he caught Dipper’s eye, and Dipper had to force himself not to start yelling at him to go away. The girl Dipper was with took the lull in his movements as a cue to move on, and she flipped him onto his back so that her lips could start sucking at his throat.

Bill watched her movements with almost hungry eyes.

“So, I found out that I’m not actually stuck to the house,” Bill said, leaning against the headboard as the girl’s hand snaked towards Dipper’s pants. 

Dipper wanted to resurrect Bill _just_ so that he could kill him all over again.

 

 

He and the girl didn’t last much longer after that. Something about the thought of Bill watching them spurred Dipper on, and it took most of what he had to hold himself back long enough for her to finish before him.

She fell asleep with her head on Dipper’s chest, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Bill watched them still, and when Dipper was sure that the girl was asleep, he levelled the demon with a glare.

“I hate you,” he said.

Bill smirked. “Was that why you said my name when you came?”

Dipper did _not_ say Bill’s name when he came.

 

  

Six months went by in a whirlwind of work and more work. But on the first Monday of May, Dipper was given his first day off in years, and he took the opportunity to check in on the faerie rings in the local park.

He was lying back on the grass, alone to anyone but himself, as Bill Cipher lay next to him. His ankles were neatly crossed, his arms were stretched out at his sides, and his eyelids were trying their best not to let him stare directly at the sun.

It reminded Dipper of being a kid. It’d been ten years since his first summer at Gravity Falls, but he could still remember the sun on his pasty skin and the smell of sun cream and the feel of grass under his feet. Ten years, and he still remembered how Stan’s house smelled and what Mabel was wearing and what shampoo Wendy liked to use.

Dipper looked at Bill, who had stopped trying to blind himself in favour of watching the clouds as they drifted by. Dipper wondered if Bill had ever done this before – taken the time to enjoy the world for all that it was. Maybe if he had, Dipper thought, he wouldn’t have tried to destroy it so often.

Dipper said, “Bill?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why did you do all of that?” Bill shifted to the side, a light crease forming between his eyebrows when he met Dipper’s eyes. “When I was a kid, why did you…” he trailed off. “What made you do what you did?”

Bill smiled. “You’ve never asked me that before.”

“I’ve never wanted to know before.”

Bill shook his head, curling his lips in a way that made his four – yes, _four_ – dimples dig in deep. He said, “I _would_ tell you, but that would ruin the surprise.”

For some reason that unnerved Dipper. Silently, he rolled back to look up at the sky, and let the subject drop. 

 

 

Bill was watching Dipper with wide eyes and he put the phone back down against the receiver. He had taken to lounging on the flat part of the grand piano, his face resting against his forearms. Dipper thought that he looked like a cat, and when he pointed that out, Bill had replied with a flash of demonic claws and a threat to scratch or, if Dipper was lucky, bite.

To say that Dipper had grown used to Bill’s antics would be an understatement. He almost looked forward to them, sometimes. For all of the things that Dipper could hold against Bill – and there were so, _so_ many – he had to admit that there was never a dull moment when he was around.

Bill cocked his head to the side when Dipper turned to look at him, his legs stretched out behind him, his heels tapping together where they were stuck up in the air. “Who was that?”

“Some lady,” Dipper answered. Bill wiggled his eyebrows, and Dipper ignored him. “She has a ghost she wants exorcized.”

Bill frowned. “I didn’t hear you telling her to take it for a walk.”

“Shut up.”

Bill was almost unusually chatty as they walked to where the old lady lived. He made comments on everything – street signs and outlandish hairstyles and Dipper’s handbag (which was a _satchel_ , as Dipper kept reminding him).

The old lady ushered Dipper into her house with a smile, and Dipper had to hold back a snort of laughter when she slammed the door in Bill’s face. Dipper kept forgetting that people couldn’t see Bill. He walked through the door a moment later, looking indignant and slightly dishevelled, and when he saw Dipper’s bitten-back smile he flipped him the bird, looking wholly unamused. 

That was one of the things that Dipper wished Bill had never learned.

“It’s my husband,” the old lady said, shuffling through the hallways of her house. Dipper had asked her if there was a space where he could draw an exorcism circle over the phone, and he assumed that was where she was leading him. “He died years ago; I don’t know why he’s only making himself known now.”

“It uses a lot of astral energy to make yourself visible to people,” Bill said over Dipper’s shoulder. “He probably wasn’t strong enough.”

Dipper knew that already, but something about the way Bill explained it to him made him feel small, and stupid.

“I won’t hurt him,” Dipper assured the lady. “But,” she looked up at him, and he saw a deep loneliness in her eyes. She was old – old enough to have outlived everyone she knew. Dipper was glad, at that moment, that he would never have to experience loneliness like that. Dipper continued, “Is there anything you’d like me to tell him?” 

She shook her head. “We’ve said everything there is to say. Maybe,” she paused, looking wistful, “just tell him that I’ll see him soon.”

“She won’t,” Bill said, cutting the swell of awe growing in Dipper’s chest short. He said, “She’s got fifteen years left on her yet.”

Dipper smiled at the lady, completely ignoring Bill. “I’ll tell him.”

She took Dipper into the living room, where a large rug had been kicked back, leaving him just enough space to draw a circle in chalk. With the dim lighting and old furniture and cold, creaky floorboards, it reminded him of home – of Gravity Falls.

“Do you need anything, dear?” The lady asked, to which Dipper shook his head. “Alright,” she said. “But if you change your mind, I’ll be just next door.”

Setting up the exorcism didn’t take long at all. It was one of the first things Dipper had learned, when he met The Hunters (people who had dedicated their lives to the protection of magical beings). The circle was so that he could see and talk to the ghost, and once he had established a narrative, he could learn the ghost’s unfinished business.

When the old man appeared, he looked startled that Dipper could see him. He was like his wife: hunched, frail, wrinkled. But there was a spark in his eyes as young as the one in his own, and a swirl of wisdom that Dipper could only hope to acquire as he grew.

“Hello,” Dipper said, because what else would he say?

The man looked Dipper up and down. “So,” he said, his voice deep and soft, “you're my wife’s new fella, are you?”

Dipper breathed a laugh. “No, sir.” He glanced down at the chalk around his feet. “Your wife asked me to come here to help you move along.” 

“Fed up of me already?” The man laughed. His eyes creased when he smiled, and the crinkles in his cheeks deepened. Dipper suspected that the wrinkles were the result of years of laughter. He shook his head. “My daughter was into that demon show,” he said. “I suppose you’ll ask me what my unfinished business is?”

Dipper nodded. “That would be helpful,” he said. “Do you know what it is?”

The man nodded. “My wife,” he said. “I need you to tell her that I love her, and that I always will.”

Dipper ignored Bill’s exaggerated gagging sounds from behind.

“I never got to tell her, before I died,” the old man said. “It’s the only thing that I didn’t do.”

Dipper nodded, a tiny smile curving at his lips. “You can tell her yourself, if you’d like.”

“Like shit!” The man barked. “And let her see me like this?” He looked down at himself – at his dressing gown and fluffy slippers. “Not a chance! If all she’s going to have of me is memory, it had better be from when I was young and handsome.” 

Dipper was smiling – he couldn’t help it. He always loved it when the ghosts had accepted what had happened, and they weren’t afraid. Not just because it made his job easier, but because he knew that when his own family were gone, they had a chance to be happy, wherever it was they ended up. 

“I’m going to have to send you away now,” Dipper said. The candles around the circle were flickering, growing dim.

“Alright, then.” The man said. “And don’t you forget what I said.” He shook his finger at Dipper in that way that old people often did.

“I won’t forget,” Dipper told him.

He was only there for a few moments after that. Dipper couldn’t be sure that he was gone, but Bill assured him that there was no trace of him anywhere in the house. 

When Dipper told the old lady what the man had said, she hugged him, and Dipper didn’t let her go until his shirt was stained with her tears. He left her his phone number, just in case she ever needed anything else, and she accepted it with a tiny smile.

When the door closed behind him, Bill gave him a look. “Giving your number out to old ladies now, are you?” He asked, raising his eyebrow. “I know you’re not much of a catch, but surely even you aren’t _that_ desperate.” 

Dipper scowled up at Bill. “Sometimes,” he said, “I really wish I could punch you.”

  

 

“Let’s make a deal,” Bill said, one day, flopping back on the sofa and somehow managing to drape himself over Dipper’s legs. He held his hand up between them and a flame curled around his fingertips. 

Dipper said, “No.”

Bill pouted. “Why not?” 

“Because,” Dipper said, “the last time you made a deal with a human, you almost destroyed the world.”

“But it was only _one_ world,” Bill whined. “And, let’s be honest, it’s not even a very nice one.”

Dipper rolled his eyes. But the way Bill was looking at him, like he really wanted Dipper to make a deal with him, spurred him to ask, “ _Just_ out of curiosity, before you get overexcited, what do you want?”

“A road trip,” Bill said, without a hint of hesitation. Despite his words, Dipper saw an excited light grow behind Bill’s eyes. “To Gravity Falls.”

Dipper frowned. He had been meaning to go to Gravity Falls for a while, so he wouldn’t be losing anything by going. He said, “And what would you give me in return?”

“Anything you want,” Bill answered, a note of desperation in his voice. “Money, girls, _anything_. I’ll even find a way to leave you alone, if that’s what it takes.”

Dipper hummed. “I don’t want any of that,” he eventually said. “I want a favour.” 

Bill’s smile dropped. Dipper was sure that there was no way he would take _that_ deal – Bill knew better than to make a promise as open as that one. 

But then Bill was nodding. “Fine,” he said.

Dipper’s jaw went slack. “Fine?”

“Yes,” Bill said. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it.”

“Okay,” Dipper said. He extended his hand to Bill, and the blue flames reached into Dipper’s half of reality long enough to leave Dipper’s palm sweaty and warm. “We have a deal.

Dipper didn’t live too far from Gravity Falls. He packed his bag that night, and the next morning he was shuffling onto a bus with a headache that felt like sleep-depravation and under-caffeinated blood flow. Dipper had expected Bill to be buzzing with excitement, but whenever he managed to sneak a glance at him, the demon was sombre and still.

The bus stopped at Gravity Falls, and when Dipper stepped off, he closed his eyes and took a breath. He had never been able to describe the smell of Gravity Falls. It smelled like pine needles and chlorine and coffee and pancakes and Lazy Susan’s weird soap and the mountains and McGuckets… McGucket-ness. But most of all, Gravity Falls just smelled like _belonging_ , like _home_.

Bill didn’t seem to want to wait around. He caught Dipper by the arm and steered him through the town. They marched past the diner and the old 7/11 and the pile of rubble where the Mystery Shack used to be and through the forest. Bill’s hand gripped him increasingly tighter as they moved along, but Dipper didn’t dare complain. Bill didn’t let go of him until they were standing in a clearing – a perfect circle of dead grass and brittle trees and a single, decrepit statue.

Bill’s fingers grew lax as his eyes fell on his… well, his _body_. His hand slipped away from Dipper’s arm and he continued forwards alone, dropping to his knees as the stone’s side.

Dipper didn’t know how long Bill sat there, staring. Dipper couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be for him, to see the shell of what he used to be. He was about to step forwards, about to say something, when Bill turned his head to face him with a wide grin.

“Cute son of a bitch,” he said, “wasn’t I?”

Dipper snorted. “If you say so.” He did move forwards then, and lowered himself to sit at Bill’s side. “Are you okay?”

Bill gave him a strange look. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” He asked. He looked back at the stone, leaning to the side to see it from a different angle. “But seriously,” he laughed, “why didn’t anyone tell me how hot I was?”

“We didn’t want it to go to your head,” Dipper said.

“Too late!” Bill grinned at him, but just for a moment, Dipper thought he saw a glimmer of real sadness in his eyes.

 

 

It was on a wet, cloudy day that Dipper Pines should have died. 

He was walking hurriedly along the street, his arms folded tightly over his chest to keep the cold out. Bill was at his side, whistling a tune as the raindrops fell straight through him, the wind leaving his hair undisturbed. 

It was almost a year since Bill had first appeared to Dipper, and if Dipper had been accustomed to Bill’s presence before, he _loved_ it now. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, or if it had happened slowly or all at once, but it _had_ happened. There had come a day where the first thing Dipper did was look around his room for Bill, and when he found him stretched out on the bed at his side, he felt an overwhelming surge of what he genuinely believed could be noting but love.

The rain hammered down on Dipper’s head, and he cursed himself for not wearing a jacket with a hood. His hair was so wet it had gone straight, and the water droplets that fell from the tips ran down his back in icy rivulets.

He didn’t notice the red light turn green, or the car speeding down the road. He couldn’t hear the people’s yells over the sound of his own heartbeat as he looked up and saw headlights mere inches from his head.

What he _did_ feel was a cold hand on his arm, then a warmth spreading through his body, and then an almost claustrophobic discomfort in him mind. His body jerked back and he crashed against the ground. He heard a crunch, and felt a spike of pain that should have turned his stomach.

But instead, the searing pain made him laugh.

Dipper heard Bill’s voice, not from his side or behind his back, but from inside his own head. He said, “Consider this your favour, kid.”

And then everything went black.

When Dipper woke up, it was to the bleeping of machines, the murmuring of nurses, and the smug, knowing, _infuriating_ smirk of a dream demon.

He said, “You’ll never guess what I just found out.”

Dipper didn’t really have to guess. 

Bill said, “I can still possess people. And I don’t need a deal to do it. Just intent.”

Dipper blinked at him, dumbly.

It was then that Bill stepped close, swinging a leg over Dipper’s thighs and leaning in close. Dipper could almost feel Bill’s breath against his neck. The demon said, “You know what that means?”

Dipper didn’t know if he could safely shake his head, but he did it anyway.

“It means,” Bill said, his voice dipping low into either a purr or a growl – Dipper couldn’t really tell. “ _The fun has only just begun_.”

 

 

It took three days for Dipper’s broken arm to heal. On the first day, the doctor wrapped it in plaster and told Dipper not to get it wet for three weeks. On the second day, Dipper was released from the hospital and discovered that a broken arm really didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. And on the third day, Bill decided that three days was long enough and tore Dipper’s bandage away and healed the arm himself.

He disappeared after that, and Dipper didn’t know if he was just sulking, like he sometimes did, or if he was actually gone. He remembered Bill saying that he couldn’t actually leave Dipper’s side, but then, he also remembered Bill admitting that he knew he could leave the house and that he just didn’t want Dipper to know that he was watching.

He remembered a moment, back when he was still a child, when Bill had told him that he would always be watching him. Dipper just hadn’t thought that Bill was serious.

Dipper’s wonderings about Bill’s whereabouts were cut short, however, when there came a knock at the door.

Outside Dipper’s apartment was a young man, with dark hair and sharp features and just the barest hint of a smile. He was wearing a blue hospital gown, and for a moment Dipper was confused, until a wide grin split the man’s face in two.

In a flash, Dipper caught the man’s wrist and dragged him into the house. “Bill!” He hissed. “What are you _doing_?”

The man – or _Bill_ – didn’t stop grinning. He said, “I found a dead thing and I brought it home to show you.” 

_“You possessed a dead body?”_

Bill nodded, still grinning. Only, then he wasn’t grinning. He twisted his arm, still in Dipper’s hand, and reversed their positions, shoving Dipper back against the opposite wall. Before Dipper could gasp, Bill’s lips were crashing into Dipper's mouth, a mess of teeth and tongue that was, for some ungodly reason, not in the least bit unpleasant.

Dipper needed to get out more.

Bill’s hands were all over him, on his hips and in his hair and sliding against his back and running down his arms. He scratched and rubbed and massaged and caressed and for the life of him, Dipper didn’t know why they hadn’t done this sooner.

It took Dipper upwards of five minutes to decide that he should probably stop this, and he pushed Bill back a step. “ _What_ ,” he found himself saying, “are you doing?”

Bill frowned. “Kissing you?”

Dipper shook his head, incredulous. “ _Why_ are you kissing me?”

“Well, I’m not kissing you anymore,” Bill said with a pout. “We should probably fix that.” He moved to lean in again, but Dipper’s hand on his chest held him back. Bill sighed heavily, like Dipper’s reluctance to rut against him was a terrible inconvenience. He said, “I wanted to. What are you going to do about it?”

Dipper blinked. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the prospect of Bill wanting to kiss him, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted to kiss Bill too. He said, “You’re in a dead body.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not,” Dipper breathed, “as much as I thought it would.”

“Good,” Bill said. And his hands were on Dipper’s ass and pulling him closer and Dipper wound his arms around Bill’s neck and they were at it again.

 

 

 _How did my life end up like this?_ Dipper wondered, as he assessed the situation. He was lying in bed, cuddling, post-coitally, with a dead body possessed by a dream demon who had tried to murder him and his family on multiple occasions.

 _How,_ he thought again, _did my life end up like this?_

 _Me and Bill as an item is definitely weird,_ Dipper thought. But everything in his life had always been weird. It would probably be _more_ weird if he was in a situation that _wasn’t_ weird.

Bill played with the short strands of hair at the back of Dipper’s neck, and Dipper ran his hand up and down Bill’s spine, counting the ridges as he went along. He found a ticklish spot, right at the bottom of Bill’s back, and he made a note of that for future reference. 

Bill must have known what he was thinking, though, because the next thing Dipper knew, a pair of lips were moving against his shoulder. “Tickle me,” Bill said, his voice a hoarse whisper, “and I will kill you.” 

Dipper laughed, but said nothing. He nuzzled closer to Bill, and the demon held him there, and in that moment, Dipper was content.

 

 

“Do you remember that time when I asked you why you were so mean to me when I was a kid?” Dipper asked. 

Bill nodded, his chin rubbing against the top of Dipper’s head. They were having one of those lazy Saturdays, where all they did was lie around the house and talk. “I told you it was a surprise,” he said.

Dipper leaned back in Bill’s arms to look at him. “Think you can tell me now?”

“I don’t know why you’re pressing this,” Bill said. He reached between them and flicked Dipper’s nose – something he had taken to doing whenever Dipper started asking too many questions. “I was just bored – looking for something to do." 

“Is that all?” Dipper asked. He didn’t want to say anything, but he had always hoped that it was more than that. It was stupid of him, and it was probably the result of reading too many fiction novels when he was a kid, but he had always thought that there was something special about he and Mabel – that they had been chosen.

“That’s all,” Bill agreed. “But,” he leaned away from Dipper and smiled down at him, “I’m glad that you’re the one I chose.”

Dipper snorted. “Over Mabel?”

Bill shook his head. “Over the other Dipper Pines.”

Dipper blinked. “There’s another one?”

“There are hundreds of you,” Bill said. “Maybe even thousands. And some of them are downright _nasty_.” He pouted. “Some of you even bullied me,” he said, in a piteous voice.

Dipper snorted. “I’d like to see anyone try to bully you.”

“Hey!” Bill gasped, mocking offence. “I’ll have you know that I’m like a bubble-gum lollipop! Hard and yummy on the outside, soft and yummy on the inside! I have feelings, Pine Tree!”

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “Really?” 

Bill barked a laugh. “No, not really. I mean, the yummy part, yes.” 

“Obviously,” Dipper agreed. Bill fell back to silence, nuzzling his cheek into Dipper’s forehead. Dipper said, “Tell me about some of the others.”

“The other Dippers?” Bill asked.

Dipper nodded, and Bill launched straight into a story about one version of Dipper that was made into an angel by Bill’s twin brother in a ploy to take over heaven.

Hearing about all those other versions of himself, and how they all managed to find a Bill that was perfect for them, made Dipper feel like the centre of that bubble-gum lollipop.

 

 

Five years it had been since what Dipper had once believed to be the most catastrophic bad day in the history of his life. Five years, in which he had realised that his worst day may actually have been one of his best.

Bill was sitting in the living room, perched on the arm of the sofa that was full of guests that couldn’t see him. Dipper was bored out of his mind, struggling to pay attention to the monotonous drawl of the woman describing to him her supernatural plights.

Dipper was in great danger of falling asleep until, when he heard a mysterious sound to the left of the three women before him, his attention was captured by the ministrations of Bill Cipher.

Who had his hand in his trousers.

He caught Dipper’s eye and smirked, ignoring Dipper’s lifted eyebrow that clearly asked _what the hell are you doing?_ When he was sure that Dipper’s attention was on him, Bill took his hands out from under his waistband and dragged his palms up his chest.

When he reached his necktie he tugged it loose, dropping it to the ground to disappear to wherever things he wasn’t touching went. Dipper felt his throat go tight as Bill’s ling fingers started to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, slowly revealing his bare chest to Dipper.

“Excuse me?” The older woman asked. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes,” Dipper said, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I thought I saw something. What were you saying?”

“It’s my mother,” she insisted, “I know it. She sits in the corner of the room and she watches me, I can _feel_ her eyes.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Dipper asked.

Bill was moaning now, his shirt completely gone as he arched back, his hips writhing against the arm of the chair. Dipper focused his attention on the mole above the woman’s lips, trying not to blush at the lascivious noises Bill was making.

“I want you to get rid of her,” the woman said. “The last thing I need is my mother watching my every move. It was bad enough when she was alive.”

“I can imagine,” Dipper said, shooting a glare in Bill’s direction. Bill winked when they made eye contract, rolling his tongue over the curve of his lip. Returning his attention to the woman, he found that he again had to clear his throat. “But that shouldn’t be a problem. I’m free next Wednesday, if that’s good for you?”

“That’s fine,” the woman said. She stood up with her two daughters, turning towards the door. As they walked past Bill, Dipper saw that he had his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them with eyes partially closed. 

Dipper followed the three women to the door, holding it open for them as they stepped out onto the street. They said their goodbyes quickly and curtly, with Dipper trying desperately to hide how eager he was for them to leave. 

Eventually, they walked away, and when Dipper turned around, Bill was stood behind him, leaning a casual hip against the wall.

“So,” Bill said, and that was all he said before Dipper was grabbing him and dragging his consciousness inside him.

 _Well_ , Bill said, his voice resounding in Bipper’s head. _This is new_.

“Shut up,” Dipper said, already stripping out of his shirt as he marched them towards the bedroom. “And don’t ever do that to me again.”

 

 

Ten years passed and Dipper and Bill were still together, their souls tethered to each other in a way that neither of them could – or wanted to – escape. 

“Do you know what’s funny?” Bill asked, the body he’d possessed sitting down next to Dipper and taking his hand. “Aging. All of these people used to be children, and now they’re adults. Some of them are probably going to be _dead_ in a few months. It’s _hilarious_.”

“You won’t be laughing about that forever, Bill,” Dipper said, moving their joined hands on to his thigh so that he could play with Bill’s fingers. “I’m going to age.”

“ _Eventually_ ,” Bill said. “But you’re nowhere near as old as some of these people.”

“I’m halfway there,” Dipper said. “I’m thirty two, Bill. I have _crows_ _feet_ and an _achy_ _back_ and wrinkles-”

“You don’t have wrinkles.”

“I don’t have wrinkles _yet_ ,” Dipper said. “But what about when I do? What if, one day, I’m old and you still look like _this_.” He waved a hand at Bill’s youthful body.

“I’ll just possess older bodies,” Bill said. “It’s no big deal.” 

“But what if it is?” Dipper cried. “What if you don’t want to be with me anymore, after that.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” Bill said. “There is nothing that could happen that would make me not want to be with you.” He wrapped his fingers around Dipper’s and squeezed, leaning into Dipper’s space to rest his head on his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere,” Bill said, pressing a kiss to the line of Dipper’s jaw. “I promise.”


End file.
